


Extra Cheese Please

by senshoo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU where instead of going to the banquet Yuuri goes to cry in a McDonalds instead, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But somehow he and Victor still meet, Excessive use of cheese, Grand Prix Final Banquet, M/M, and all is well in the end, animal death mention, sorry but Vicchan is still dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 11:19:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11690550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senshoo/pseuds/senshoo
Summary: Sometimes you get classy drunk at the Grand Prix Final banquet and win yourself a coach. Other times, you win him with snot running down your nose and half a Big Mac spilled down your chest.(Or, the one where Yuuri sneaks away from the banquet in order to grief eat and Victor just sneaks away)





	Extra Cheese Please

**Author's Note:**

> [fingerguns my way to hell]

Yuuri Katsuki had come to the firm realization that he was currently sitting squarely at an all time low. Not only had he only a few hours ago received the news that his puppy had died, but he had bombed the Grand Prix Final, lied to his coach about having a flesh eating virus in order to dodge the banquet, and was currently sitting in a McDonalds at four o’clock in the morning with the Big Mac he had just dropped stewing on his t-shirt. 

Yuuri Katsuki had had many lows in his life, but this was just sad. 

And so, at four o’clock in the morning, at a McDonalds in Sochi with the single employee behind the counter staring at him openly, Yuuri Katsuki allowed himself to be sad. 

Unfortunately for Yuuri, he was a positively atrocious crier. He could practically feel how blotchy his skin was and the dribble of snot running from his left nostril, but he figured that no one came to a McDonalds at four o’clock in the morning because they were in a  _ good  _ mood. The pimpled teenager behind the counter had probably seen it all, and really, one Japanese man crying into the remains of a decimated Big Mac could hardly make it to his top ten list of Things He Wished He Could Unsee. At least, that’s what Yuuri told himself. 

Not that it mattered, anyways. Yuuri had pretty firmly decided that he was going to Japan (would only really bother with nationals so as to finish the season and not upset his few sponsors too terribly) and his decision to skip out on the banquet in order to grief himself into a new pant size had only cemented his decision. If being a figure skater made him this miserable, he wasn’t sure that he really wanted to be a figure skater, anymore. 

And so really, the whole crying in McDonalds thing was a funeral, of sorts. And so really, Yuuri couldn’t be  _ blamed _ for mourning the loss of his dog and his career in one fell swoop. 

But that still didn’t stop him from flinching when his peaceful ceremony was interrupted by the door swinging open and some tall person with a hood firmly over their head stolling in. Yuuri ducked his head in embarrassment for approximately three seconds before he forced his spine to straighten so that this stranger could bare witness to his pain. He refused to feel shame for mourning Vicchan and if this tall stranger made Yuuri feel bad for it, then they didn’t even deserve to know Vicchan’s name. 

He nodded to himself, gathered his strength, and turned his attention to the remains of his sandwich, ignoring the rapidly cooling burger sauce on his white t-shirt. 

“Yes, can I get a quarter pounder with five cheese?” 

Yuuri blinked and turned his attention to the back of the tall stranger. Why were they speaking in English? Yuuri supposed that there could be any number of international figure skating fans (he refused to accept the possibility of a fellow figure skater witnessing him in his most vulnerable form) and the thought made him cringe and sink down in his booth, previous courage forgotten in the wake of his crippling embarrassment. 

The teenager behind the counter responded in the same bored, accented English that he had to Yuuri. “I’m sorry, sir, we can’t do that. I can add one extra cheese slice to your quarter pounder if you’d like?”

The stranger stiffened slightly. “I just want one quarter pounder with five cheese. Please.”

Though the stranger’s voice was much more firm than it had been before, the teenager was unphased. “Like I said sir, it is company policy to only allow one extra slice of cheese per sandwich.”

The stranger grumbled and fumbled in the back pocket of his, really rather nice, pants and retrieved a thick, leather wallet. He cracked open the wallet and fished around for a moment until his long fingers were pulling out a few notes. He looked both ways, Yuuri assumed to ensure the coast was clear, and slid the notes across the counter. “Listen, kid, this could all be yours if you would just put five cheese on my quarter pounder.” 

The stranger’s voice really had too much dark promise for a McDonalds, but Yuuri got his point. The teenager, however, did not. “Like I said, sir. I can add only one extra cheese slice to your sandwich.” His voice droned. 

The stranger’s shoulders seemed to lose their life energy all at once as they slumped sadly beneath his black hoodie. “Just give me five quarter pounders…” He mumbled. 

The teenager nodded and completed the transaction while the stranger moped in from of the pick up counter. Yuuri’s shoulders slumped in sympathy. The world really was too cruel. 

Now that the show was decidedly over, Yuuri turned back to his sandwich, the memory of which brought fresh tears to his eyes. How had he gotten to a point in his life in which he was sympathizing with some stranger attempting to bribe a McDonalds employee into giving him extra cheese slices? What was his life? 

And then there were more tears. He missed Japan. He missed Hasetsu. He missed his mother’s cooking and his father’s awkward pats on the shoulder. He missed the dinky ice rink that Yuuko and Takeshi really only bought because there were literally no career opportunities in Hasetsu. He missed his dog. He missed Vicchan. 

Oh, God, Vicchan…

He had fucked up this time. Thoroughly fucked up. Fucked up so badly that he wasn’t sure how he was going to claw his way out of this steaming dumpster fire situation that he had managed to fuck himself into. And now his dog was dead. Icing on the cake.

Just the thought of the absolute mound of student loans that he would have to pay back made him want to crawl into a hole and never return to the human world, again. Sponsorships only covered his skating expenses and being that he hadn’t exactly knocked it out of the park for Sochi, he would be using all of his sponsorship money just to pay the coaching fees, music commission fees, choreographing fees, and travel expenses. It was enough to make his head swim. Which probably wasn’t the best idea, currently. 

And then there was the ever present thrum of his anxiety below the surface of his veins, urging him to get off his ass and go  _ do something _ . Anything. With his good friend, depression, informing him that that ‘something’ was eating himself into a food coma. There was a good reason why he wasn’t at the banquet, currently. If he had allowed himself to enter that room where Victor Nikiforov in his perfect suit with his perfect hair and perfect smile could bare witness to the absolute tire fire that was Yuuri’s skating career, than he would have had to get well and truly drunk in order to bear it. 

So, he had decided to run away to McDonalds, instead, in an attempt to save himself from further humiliation. It had been the more fattening, but far safer, choice. 

“Are you okay?” Came a voice from somewhere in front of him. 

Oh, God, no. 

Yuuri blinked up at the tall stranger standing in front of him, sore eyes squinting in order to adjust to the harsh fluorescent lights above them. The tall stranger was standing just in front of Yuuri, hands full with a tray that carried his five quarter pounders. He still had his hood pulled over his head, but the large sunglasses that had covered most of his face had slid down his narrow nose to reveal--

Ah, fuck, it was Victor Nikiforov. 

He must have been speaking English in order to go unrecognized. Not that his designer sunglasses and signature smile were helping. 

“I-I’m fine!” Yuuri stammered, dropping his half dead burger back down on his tray. “Nothing’s wrong here! Never been better!” He tried to wipe the snot from his face under the guise of patting his mouth, but even the absence of snot dripping down his nose did little to hide the blotchiness of his face or the t-shirt that was still stained with Big Mac sauce. 

Victor nodded emphatically and gestured to the seat across from Yuuri. “Is this seat taken?”

Yuuri could help but glance around at the entirely empty restaurant, every single chair in the entire establishment empty except for Yuuri’s. Technically, it  _ wasn’t  _ taken, but Yuuri very much did not want to invite his idol to his pity party, so he prepared himself to refuse. However, before Yuuri could even speak, Victor was sliding into the booth across from him, plopping his tray down on the table and sliding his glasses off in order to tuck them into the collar of his hoodie. 

“Thanks,” Victor offered, beginning to unwrap his first sandwich in order to pull the cheese off of it. “I didn’t want to sit alone in a McDonalds, that’s just sad.” 

Yuuri bit down the part of him that wanted to point out that until a few seconds ago,  _ he  _ had been sitting in a McDonalds, alone, but then he remembered  _ why  _ he had been sitting in a McDonalds, alone, and realized that Victor had a point. Besides, Victor looked like he could use some company. His hair was limp, from what little Yuuri could see of it, and his eyes were red rimmed, as if he had been crying. 

And there was something else. 

“So, what brings you here?” Victor asked, as if they were sitting in some fancy bar and not in a McDonalds with red rimmed eyes. 

And Yuuri fought to bite it back. 

He fought  _ with everything that he had _ . 

And yet, still--

“Forehead.” He wanted to punch himself in the face after those two syllables had escaped in one single, vomited, mess. What was  _ wrong  _ with him. 

The thing was, Yuuri had loved Victor since he was twelve.  _ Loved _ him. Like a lot. But Yuuri had never been this close to Victor in person. Never shared air with him like this. And if there was one thing that was glaringly different from seeing Victor on a poster, it was the intimate realization that Victor Nikiforov had an absolutely  _ massive _ forehead. Like really massive. So massive that Yuuri couldn’t tear his eyes away from it, even though he had a perfectly good Victor Nikiforov just below it. So massive that Yuuri vaguely wondered if his eyes were so drawn to it only because it had its own gravitational pull. 

Victor blinked in confusion, brows furrowed. Seemingly unaware of what Yuuri was referring to. He tentatively raised a hand to his forehead, just grazing the skin. Yuuri panicked and hurriedly glanced around, looking for something that he could latch onto in order to change the topic. 

Ah, perfect.

“Y-You know…” Yuuri began, eyes trained on Victor’s fingers which were still deconstructing sandwiches and harvesting their cheese. “You can have my cheese slice, if you want…” 

Yuuri dared to lift his eyes from Victor’s hands, settling on his impossibly blue eyes, heart beating a frantic rhythm in his chest. Victor’s eyes were practically  _ glittering _ in happiness, red rimmed as they still were, and he lifted a single hand to his chest, as if Yuuri’s gesture had touched him like no other gift had before. 

“You would really do that?” He asked, wide eyed wonder in his voice. “For me?” 

Yuuri nodded and turned his attention to fishing around on his tray for the stray slice of cheese that he had ordered and then removed from his sandwich in a guise of self control. He lifted it from the tray with two fingers, offering its wobbly form to Victor. It still had a bit of Big Mac sauce on it, but all McDonalds sandwiches really tasted the same, so Yuuri didn’t think Victor would mind. 

And he didn’t, reaching out to grab the slice of cheese as if it were some holy relic, cradling it between his hands all the way to the cheesy monstrosity that he was constructing on his tray. 

Really, this whole situation was rapidly becoming too much for Yuuri to handle. 

“You’re Yuuri Katsuki, aren’t you?” Victor finally asked, picking up his overstuffed sandwich and taking a huge bite out of it. He chewed for a moment before glancing down at his tray, demolished sandwiches still stacked haphazardly, all cheeseless. He plucked one from his tray and nudged it towards Yuuri who accepted it after a brief moment of hesitance. 

Yuuri’s eyes widened at the sound of his mortal name falling from the lips of a god. “Y-Yes…? How do you know my name?” Though he had asked the question, Yuuri was nearly bursting at the seams in excitement, eager to hear Victor say that he had noticed his short program a few days earlier, which hadn’t been that bad, all in all. 

Victor glanced back at Yuuri and gestured for him to eat the quarter pounder in his hands which Yuuri began to do after a beat or two. “Ah, you didn’t show up to the banquet. It was a mad house when the ISU reps were demanding a group photo and you were nowhere to be seen.”

Yuuri flinched and sunk impossibly lower in his seat, almost flinching when his knee slightly brushed Victor’s only for Victor to push his insistently against Yuuri’s. Unhesitantly, Victor continued. “I figured that if you were allowed to skip the banquet, then so could I.” 

Yuuri’s jaw hung open at his statement. “B-But you  _ won _ ! Victor, what the hell are you  _ doing _ here? Everyone must be looking for you!”

Victor shrugged off Yuuri’s wide eyed stare. “I’m sure they will come up with something. Besides, this looks more like my kind of party.” 

“Victor, we’re sitting in a McDonalds with some random teenager. I’m covered in cheeseburger and snot, and you’re eating a sandwich with six slices of cheese on it.” 

Victor raised an eyebrow at him, challenging. “And?”

“There is literally no part of this situation that even vaguely resembles a party.” Yuuri pointed out evenly, swallowing a mouthful of quarter pounder.

“Exactly!” Victor cheered, smile wide and boisterous. “I think I’ve had enough parties to last me a life time. I prefer this much more.” 

Yuuri blinked. “You can’t tell me that you’re here to do anything more than drown your emotions in cheese.” What had gotten  _ into  _ Yuuri? Not only was he  _ conversing  _ with Victor Nikiforov like an actual human being, but he was kind of joking around with him. Kind of. 

Victor’s lips twisted into a pout. “Yeah, well, so are you…” He accused defiantly. 

And then, Yuuri was back to square one. “Y-Yeah...I am…” He could feel his eyes welling up again and he desperately urged them to get their shit together.  _ Damn it not in front of Victor _ .

Victor seemed startled by how quickly he had dissolved into tears, eyes wide with uncomfortable surprise. “D-Do you want to talk about it? Sorry, I’m not very good with people crying in front of me?”

And Yuuri wanted to bite it back. Damn it, he  _ tried _ . But--

“My dog just died,” he sobbed, words catching on the lump in his throat in their haste to tumble out. Really, this was the first time that Yuuri had really spoken those words aloud and it felt equal parts good and terrible. It seemed that with the verbal acknowledgement, his face took that as the signal to begin  _ leaking _ , snot and tears running down his flushed skin in equal measure. 

However, rather than laugh at Yuuri’s choked cries, Victor’s face crumpled right along with Yuuri’s. As if he had barely been holding himself together and that little piece of bad news was all it took to send him over the edge. In his defense, he was much better at crying that Yuuri was, only a handful of tears managing to escape while the rest of his face remained rather even toned and dry. “Oh my God, that’s  _ terrible _ . I’m so sorry to hear that…”

After that, they just sort of sat there, crying together. The teenager behind the counter had disappeared at some point and Yuuri was grateful. Not because he had any dignity left to protect, but because something about Victor’s grief (which Yuuri had managed to work out was not  _ entirely  _ because of Vicchan) seemed private. Eventually, though, Yuuri managed to get himself together enough to stutter out a quiet question. 

“W-Well…? What about you? Why are  _ you  _ so sad? You’re on top of the world…” Yuuri mumbled around what was left of his sandwich. Victor had abandoned his monstrosity once the tears had started, but Yuuri needed something to occupy his hands, so he took his own up, once more. 

Victor sighed, deep and heavy, face still lined with tear tracks. “Believe it or not, I haven’t felt on top of the world in a very long time…”

Yuuri’s brows furrowed in confusion. Victor seemed so  _ happy _ all the time. And he had been a reigning world champion for so long that most of the competitive figure skaters who had once stood a chance had simply given up. And Yuuri told him as much. 

“Actually…” Victor sighed, glancing around to make sure that they were really alone. “I’ve been thinking about possibly retiring…” 

“ _ What _ ?!” Yuuri shrieked, dropping his sandwich to cover his mouth afterwards, glancing sheepishly across the table at Victor. He lowered his voice to a hissing whisper. “You can’t  _ retire _ !” 

Victor’s eyes turn down in sadness, avoiding Yuuri’s questioning eyes. “Figure skating just doesn’t really...do it for me...anymore. It used to make me very happy but lately I’ve come to realize that I haven’t been very happy in a very long time…”

Oh. 

And really, that little piece of information was nearly enough to send Yuuri into another round of tears, but he valiantly held them back. He could mourn Victor’s career in the quiet of his own bed. He wouldn’t bother Victor with the troubles of a love blind fan. Instead, he sighed, shoulders slumped. 

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about retiring, as well…” Yuuri admitted, voice small and sad. 

“What? Why? You’re so  _ young _ ! You have so much  _ time _ !” Victor protested loudly, inside voice completely forgotten. 

Yuuri shrugged helplessly. “I completely bombed the Final. I don’t think I can keep pulling myself up by my bootstraps, anymore.” 

Any other day, when Yuuri was less haggard and stripped bare by grief, he might have thought twice about telling Victor any of this, but frankly, Yuuri was  _ tired _ . And he had very little to lose, considering he would never see Victor, again. 

“But you still love it?” The sudden seriousness in Victor’s expression nearly made Yuuri flinch. 

“Love what?” Yuuri asked. 

“Skating, of course!” Victor gasped, eyes fierce. “You still love skating?” 

Yuuri blinked. “Of course I do, but that’s not--”

“Then you have to keep skating! No matter what!” Victor announced, leaning across the table in order to be closer to Yuuri, though his voice was loud enough that anyone in the building could have heard him, easily. 

Yuuri sighed, irritation working its way into his voice. “You don’t understand. I  _ want  _ to keep skating, but I just can’t keep it up, anymore. Between my student loans and the coaching fees, the strain on my family is just too much. I just  _ can’t _ .”

It was quiet for a moment or two as Victor seemingly racked his brain for some sort of solution. The older man slunk down in his seat, finger pressed against his lips in thought. Yuuri turned his eyes away, feeling guilty that he was bothering Victor with his problems. There simply wasn’t a way for it to work, anymore. Yuuri had tried for years, but now he was ready to go home. Well, he wasn’t  _ ready _ , per say, but he  _ could  _ be ready. Somehow. 

Finally, Victor turned his attention back to Yuuri, eyes fierce. “I’ll do it, then. There is no other way.” 

Yuuri’s eyes widened, heart stopping outright in his chest. “You’re going to keep skating?” He didn’t dare get his hopes up, but they were already running away. 

Victor shook his head, amused smiled twisting up the corners of his lips for the first time since he sat down. “No,  _ you’re  _ going to.” 

“What…? Victor I  _ just  _ explained to you that I  _ can’t _ .” And really, how many times would Yuuri have to spill his emotions out onto the cheap plastic of a McDonalds table before Victor understood. 

“I’m going to be your coach!” Victor informed him, nearly bouncing in place in his excitement. “It’ll be perfect! This way, you don’t have to leave the ice, and I can catch a break!” He blinked at Yuuri’s wide eyed stare. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll wave the coaching fees until you’ve won enough gold medals to keep your head above water. There’s an ice rink where you live, correct?” 

And in his shock, Yuuri’s thoughts turned to the dinky ice palace back in Hasetsu. The one Yuuko and Takeshi ran. He thought of Victor gently guiding him through sit spins in the same run down ice palace where Yuuri had first learned to skate. The same ice palace where Yuuko and Yuuri had copied Victor’s routines even when Victor was still in juniors. The thought sent a rapid fire jolt of pure  _ want  _ through his veins. He wanted that. He wanted Victor and Hasetsu  _ at the same time _ . 

He wanted it so badly that he managed to mumble out a quiet--

“Yeah...there is…”

“Perfect! We’ll have to fly out immediately to get start working on some routines! We can’t just let you stick with the same old thing you’ve been using all season! We’ll need something  _ new _ ! Something  _ surprising _ !”

Victor rewarded him with a sunny smile, much wider and brighter than anything Yuuri had yet to see. And his eyes. His  _ eyes _ . Shining and happy and excited and Yuuri wanted them to  _ stay  _ like that. And Yuuri might have been just been an idiot, just been some giddy fanbody who wanted to make his idol smile more than anything, but somehow, he found himself nodding along to what Victor was saying. Running through his meager budget to figure out just how much money it was going to cost to uproot his entire life from Detroit and move it back to Hasetsu. 

Victor waved his hands in Yuuri’s face, drawing his attention back from the alternate plane of existance they had wandered off to. “Whatever it is you’re thinking, stop it!” He scolded. “Just leave everything to your coach. All I need you to do is just stay with me.”

And Yuuri was helpless to do anything else but agree. 


End file.
